


Mistaking Paradise for a Pair of Long Legs

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Gabe have no idea they're dating</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistaking Paradise for a Pair of Long Legs

“So, I think Pete should wear the tux.”

Gabe looks up from the computer and furrows his brow. “What?”

Ryland shrugs. “I just think the wedding dress would look tacky with the tattoos. Plus, he’s got a kid. You could get away with wearing white.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s just obviously serious, man.” Ryland nods his head and fingers the keyboards, working through a piece he’s been toying with all day.

“Seriously, Ry? What the _fuck_?”

Ryland looks up at Gabe and his eyes widen. “Oh. You mean…oh, man. I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you’re dating Pete.”

“I am not. I mean, we hang out and shit, but…”

“You’ve been on three dates in the past month. VMAs, Leno, America’s Got Talent. You can get married in New York, so I say go for it.”

“Fuck you. You’re a douche.”

“It’s legal there, that’s all I’m saying. But Pete should wear the tux. You’re going to have to alter something to be long enough, but I think you can manage to find something really pretty. Maybe Erin can help.”

“Way to be a heteronormative asshole, Ry.” Gabe turns his attention back to his computer. “And we’re not dating. We’re friends.”

“Right. Absolutely. Friends. Who date.” He plays through the riff again and smiles. “You’ve already got the ex-wife seal of approval. It doesn’t get better than that.”

“I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

Ryland turns the drumbeat on and plays the riff again. “I’m just saying that if Beckett gets picked as best man instead of me, I’m going to cry.”

**

Gabe flops on Pete’s couch and digs the remote out from between the cushions. Pete’s in the kitchen microwaving popcorn, and Gabe is determined to take over all of the cushions. “What do you want to watch?”

“Raiders.”

“Your obsession with whips is really something I need to talk to Ash about, isn’t it?” He rolls off the couch and crawls across the floor to the DVD cabinet. He organized Pete’s discs the last time he was in LA, and other than the few that are Bronx’s favorites, they’re exactly as he left them.

“I’m surprised you haven’t made me a card catalogue for when I check a movie out.” Pete takes his seat on the couch again and Gabe scowls. “I did write a thank you note to Spielberg for you though, since retitling it ‘Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark’ made your organization easier.”

“Sets are different.” Gabe puts the movie in and crawls back to the couch, sitting down in front of it. He reaches back and snags the bowl of popcorn from Pete’s hand and pulls it down in front of him.

“Hey!” Pete grabs it back and sets it on his lap. “Share.”

“Mean.” Gabe gets up on the couch and sits next to Pete, bodies pressed together, sharing the popcorn as Pete starts the movie. They’re on the flight to Bangladesh when Gabe grabs the remote and pushes pause.

“I was watching that.”

“Are we dating?”

“Um.” Pete stuffs a handful of popcorn in his mouth and chews it slowly, preventing himself from answering.

“Ryland says we’re dating. I mean, we’ve gone out. We’re friends. We’re not _dating_ , right? I mean, if we were dating, this would be, like, at least our fourth date, and you haven’t put out yet.”

“Maybe you should put out.”

“You want me to put out?”

“I’m just saying that I don’t appreciate you assuming that I’m going to be easy.” Pete runs his fingers along the bottom surface of the bowl, coating them with greasy butter-esque oil. “Just because you’re Gabe Saporta doesn’t mean that I’m going to be all over you or anything.”

“You’re always all over me. It’s sort of your modus operandi.”

“Are you saying I’m clingy? I’m not clingy.”

“You’re static cling, Pete.” Gabe takes the popcorn away and sets it on the table. “So, what do you think?”

“I think you’re mean.”

“Dude, do you think the clinging thing is a problem? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I live on the other side of the country, but I spend my spare time hanging out in LA with you.”

“You do.” Pete wrinkles his nose and pushes play on the remote. They’re both quiet for a long time and then Pete pushes pause again. “I always sleep on the left side of the bed.”

“I know.”

“And Bronx will _always_ come first.”

“No shit.”

“Okay.”

Gabe nods then turns his head. “Okay?”

Pete nods as well and glances at Gabe from the corner of his eye as Gabe lifts his arm, easing it over Pete’s shoulders. After a few seconds, Pete shifts and leans against Gabe, head on his chest and hand on the remote, pushing play. “I’m a cheap date.”

Gabe laughs softly, his finger catching Pete’s chin and tilting it up so they’re looking at each other. The laugh fades to a smile and he leans in, brushing his lips over Pete’s. “Tell me something I don’t know, Wentz.”


End file.
